


House Hunting

by radiantbeams



Series: Extreme Cheapskates [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Model Harry, New York City, literally that's all this is, realtor Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 01:33:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13307601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radiantbeams/pseuds/radiantbeams
Summary: Well intentioned surprises, of course, never go as planned.~*~This work is part of a series, it wont make much sense unless you read the first bitHERE.





	House Hunting

**Author's Note:**

> I originally intended for this to be a surprise epilogue. Then final exams happened, then Christmas. Not to mention I've written and re-written this probably 6 times with wildly different plots. But this is what I've ended up with. Hopefully my other ideas will come together so I can also post them to the series in the future! I really like this verse and I do hope to continue with it.
> 
> Thank you all so much for your encouraging comments on _As Good As It Gets_. I'm so pleased people enjoyed it, since it was essentially my first fic (the first one I put real effort into, anyway). I've got more coming within the next couple months, not for this series, but I hope you enjoy it all the same. Stay tuned!

Their realtor, Susan, (Who’s from another agency and Louis is _not_ mad about it. ‘We need someone who’s unbiased.’ Harry said, and he’s right, but they’ve been to twelve apartments so far and nothing has met their needs. Louis would just like to say that it usually only takes him _seven_ showings to make a sale. Susan is an amateur.) Anyway, Susan, their realtor, punches in the lockbox code and fishes out the keys. She’s brought them to a renovated brownstone on the Upper West Side, right up next to Lincoln Square. It’s in their price range, which Louis balked at when Harry told him how much he wanted to invest, how much he _had_ to invest. Modeling is lucrative, it would seem. The last two apartments they looked at were very much not in their budget, which was frustrating because Susan should know better than to show a client something they can’t afford.

 

The first thing Louis notices once they get inside is the overwhelming smell of bleach and pine-sol. It’s disgusting and he brings a sleeve up to his face. Susan is droning on about when it was built and the history of the neighborhood. He leans over to whisper in Harry’s ear.

 

“They couldn’t invest in even some aerosol? Anything would be better than this.” He wheezes for good measure.

 

Harry wraps an arm around his waist, mumbling a “Don’t be difficult, Lou.” as they walk through the rest of the flat.

 

It’s gorgeous. Clean too, obviously. Without furniture it’s hard to imagine the space, but Louis has had practise and is already decorating with a nice sectional he saw on Wayfair the other day. He’s half in love with it before Susan shows them the roof access. They make it out on the windy balcony, Central Park just visible between the buildings. Louis walks right up to the edge before he turns around, eyes pleading. Harry smirks, holding out his hand for Louis to come back and take.

 

Susan is still chattering away, now talking about the crown molding and windowpanes, as they wander back down to the kitchen. Louis notes a double oven, perfect for Harry.

 

“I think we need a minute alone to talk, Susan.” Louis says, rudely interrupting whatever she was in the middle of. She’s used to it though, by now, and gives them a tight smile before turning on her heel to the guest bedroom.

 

“Haz.” He pleads, whirling around to face him. His hands reach out to grab at Harry’s biceps. “We have to get this house.”

 

Harry’s already smiling, twinkle in his eye. “I thought you’d like this one.” He says, prying Louis’s sharp nails away from the cloth of his t-shirt. “Are you sure?”

 

Louis is already nodding, wrapping himself in Harry’s arms for a hug. “Yes, it’s perfect.” He nuzzles into his chest, kissing the tiny bit of collar bone that peeks out from his neckline. “Also I’m a little tired of looking at places.” He says, looking up so Harry knows he’s joking.

 

“Really? I couldn’t tell.” Harry jokes, knowing full well that Louis has been a whiny tosser the past two weeks, trudging through each flat like he was being dragged to hell.

 

“But… Seriously, do you like this one?” Louis asks, stepping away but still keeping his hands on Harry’s ribs. “As much as I do?”

 

“I love it, I think it’s perfect.” Harry says, looking around at the vaulted ceilings.

 

They sign the papers and Susan looks much too happy to be rid of them for good. Well, rid of Louis; Harry was perfectly pleasant to her. Their apartment contracts are up way too quickly than they’re really ready and they have sleep on an air mattress for two weeks because the moovers lost some of their stuff. They were moving it literally 20 blocks how they lost anything Louis has no idea. He’s incredibly stressed about finding replacements. Even considers hiring a decorator until Harry talks him out of it. It’s fun to go to flea markets and antique stores (even though it’s hot as balls outside _who_ thought it was a good idea to move in the middle of July?) to find furniture replace it. Because Harry refuses to buy anything new. ‘Think about all the _history_ behind these pieces, babe.’ Yeah, it’s an ottoman, stinky feet history. Louis doesn’t know why he ever thought they would have trouble furnishing their new place. Harry’s never going to stop collecting random bits of decor now that he’s started. How many end tables does one person _need_?

 

They put new paint up on the walls. And Louis does a nice job in the living room in his own opinion but when he goes upstairs to check on how Harry’s doing in the guest bedroom, he finds more paint on Harry himself than anywhere else. So he calls some professionals to come in and finish it.

 

The one thing they don’t tell you about home ownership, is that there’s always a catastrophe to battle. It literally never ends. Once he has the cockroach problem under control, the faucet in the kitchen basically explodes, then the window in their bedroom gets stuck open, which wasn’t so bad until they got a bad thunderstorm. Youtube is his most prized resource nowadays. He’s actually gotten pretty handy. He only shocked himself once, and there was a scare with a ladder in the hallway when he was changing the lightbulbs but he’s okay. Harry lectures him about being prideful and how he’s going to seriously fuck something up, or actually get seriously injured himself (Louis is still mad about how Harry prioritized those two things) sometime soon.

 

Harry ends up doing all their laundry. But not because Louis _can’t_ , Harry is just _better_ at it. Although, now that Harry’s Mr. Bigshot in the modeling industry, he has to travel. He has to travel _all the time_ . And Louis gets tired of eating takeout every night, so when Harry goes to Paris ( _again_ ) he takes some classes (actually paying attention this time) and learns how to cook. It’s loads better than moping around the house after work, where all he can think about is how much he misses Harry. Which is what he usually did when Harry goes away.

 

Louis has kept his new talent a surprise, waiting until he’s actually _good_ before he reveals his secret. Harry said he would be coming home from Australia tonight, his plane lands at four so he’ll be home around six. It’s perfect, and just enough time for Louis to skip out of work early, go down to the shops, and maybe (hopefully) have everything ready by the time he arrives. He’s got a schedule, and he’s sticking to that schedule. What his schedule doesn’t include, however, is Harry coming home early to surprise him.

 

Louis is back in the kitchen when Harry breezes through the front door. The “Honey I’m home!” he always sing songs when he gets in is cut short by Louis’s yelp and a loud crash.

 

“Louis? Baby, are you alright?” Harry calls out in a panic, his hand getting stuck in the handle of his suitcase as he tries to abandon it by the door.

 

When he finally makes it to the threshold, he finds Louis on the floor, the kitchen an absolute mess, and a lid from one of their pots still circling loudly on the ground from where it obviously came crashing down when Louis did.

 

“Why are you here?” Louis asks incredulously, blinking up at him from where he’s struggling to prop himself up against the oven door.

 

“Um… I live here?” Harry raises an eyebrow.

 

“Oh, uh, right! I mean-- Welcome home, Babe! I missed you.” Louis smiles, trying to smooth over his panic. He reaches a hand out for Harry to help him up.

 

Harry laughs into a hug. “I missed you too, babe. What’s all this?” He asks, looking around the disaster of a kitchen as he pulls away.

 

Louis laughs nervously, rubbing his hand across the back of his neck. “Heh… Um, so…” He takes a deep breath and launches into his nervous rambling. “I’ve been taking cooking classes for the past three months and I was going to surprise you with dinner for when you got home because my instructor thinks I’ve been doing really well and I wanted to do something special for you and it _would_ have been ready if you’d been home when you said but now I guess…” He pauses, finally looking up to see Harry smiling at him fondly. “Surprise!” He does half hearted jazz hands and cringes.

 

Harry looks worn. There are dark circles under his eyes, his hair is frizzy, and his clothes are still plane-rumpled. It suddenly hits Louis just how much he’s missed him, how much he loves him. He throws his arms around Harry’s neck before he can even try to stumble out a response.

 

“God, I’ve missed you.” He mumbles, nuzzling into Harry’s hair. He smells like airport and stale sweat and just _Harry_.

 

Harry squeezes Louis so tight he feels it in his ribcage. “I missed you too. Thank you for the surprise, I’m sorry I ruined it.”

Louis is shaking his head, pulling away to turn the burners down on the stove. “No, it’s not ruined. It’s just early, I guess. But go, shoo. Take a shower, you stink.” He turns Harry around towards the stairs up to their room. “I love you, and I want to spend time with you. But I won’t let you interrupt my creative process.”

 

“I don’t think there’s much process to it, Love.” Harry laughs, jerking away as Louis jabs him in the back.

 

“There’s method to my madness, now leave me alone. Freckles always wants a cuddle, go say hello to her while you wait.”

 

It takes him a moment to orient himself again on what he was doing, which makes him have to scramble to salvage his bechamel from almost splitting. He usually works in complete silence, which is weird because he does almost everything else while blaring his favorite 90’s alternative playlist. But he can hear Harry upstairs humming a little tune while he unpacks, because Harry always unpacks first thing when he gets home. They fought about it when Louis’s suitcase sat open at the foot of the bed for over a month when they got back from visiting Gemma in Seattle. They came to an agreement though: Harry is in charge of packing and unpacking.

 

The water to the shower turns on right as he starts whipping cream for the tiramisu and Freckles comes back down to find him. She paws at his ankles for a few minutes. When it becomes apparent she’s not going to get his attention she huffs loudly and stalks away, probably to go wait for Harry by the bathroom door. He always gives her attention, which is why Louis thinks she’s so spoiled. They need a dog.

 

Harry’s hair is still dripping when he pads back down stairs in his stocking feet. Freckles looks smugly at Louis from her place in his arms. He takes a seat at the bar and watches him work.

 

“How was the flight?” Louis asks, bending very close to the pan trying to get the ladyfingers all even.

 

Harry shrugs, yawning widely. Louis distractedly turns back to his sauce. He checks his poaching liquid and fiddles with the burner to get it to the right temperature.

 

“So… You cook?” Harry asks, looking impressed but also rather confused.

 

“I guess so.” Louis says, laughing.

 

Harry comes around the kitchen island to take a peek at what Louis is making. “How are you just so amazing at everything you do?”

 

“What are you even talking about?” Louis chuckles, side stepping away as Harry makes another move to wrap him up with his tentacle arms.

 

“Just-- Everything you ever try, you can pick it up perfectly.” He says, leaning his hip up against the fridge.

 

“I mean, I put a lot of hard working into learning how to do this.” He makes an impressive show of deglazing the pan, winking at Harry over his shoulder.

 

“Of course, I don’t-- I wasn’t.” Harry really is so awful with words. “You put in so much effort but then it’s just perfect. I’ve been trying to learn how to play guitar for years and you picked it up in a couple of months. And I’ve been cooking since I was small and I would never even try to attempt something this complicated.” He says, swiping a taste off the side of the tiramisu before Louis can swat his hand away. “You’re wonderful.” He smiles.

 

Louis turns toward the sink to hide his blush. “How many ambien did you take on the plane?” He jokes.

 

“Ha. Ha. I’m of sound mind, thank you very much. You’re really awful when it comes to taking compliments.”

 

“Maybe I’d be better if you paid me more of them.” He shoves a bag of frozen chips out of the way to make room for the cake. Harry catches him on his way back to the stove, wrenching him in by the waist.

 

He kisses all over Louis’s face. “You’re beautiful, and brilliant, and wonderful, and creative-- Hey!” He exclaims over Louis’s giggles as he pinches Harry on the hip.

 

The vegetables are only slightly burnt once their little scuffle is over. Harry’s still very impressed with everything he made, and Louis is only slightly suspicious that he’s only saying so because they’re boyfriends. They gorge themselves on desert while they cuddle on the couch, _Titanic_ on in the background. Harry falls asleep sometime between the iceberg and the end credits. Louis contemplates waking him up to move him to their bed, but instead he just lugs the duvet down the stairs and cuddles up behind him on the couch.

 

He wakes up to the smell of coffee and all the dishes from last night clean and drying on the counter. Good. He hates washing dishes, but Harry always makes him do it. ‘For an even division of labor.’ Which makes sense, but he still hates it. Harry isn’t around, as Louis swirls cream into his coffee. Not really odd though, considering he’d now started going to the gym in the mornings too. Louis specially sectioned off a space in his office for Harry’s yoga stuff. Right in front of the bay window and far away from their bedroom; he was still the absolute loudest, especially in the mornings. Louis startles though, when Harry starts talking from behind him coming down the stairs.

 

“I got you something, actually. I had forgotten last night.” He says, laughing a little as Louis spills a bit from his mug onto the counter and turns to glare at him.

 

“Lets see it then.” He asks, holding out his hand expectantly.

 

“No one really taught you how to receive compliments, or gifts apparently.” But he hands over the package anyway.

 

It’s got a fancy gold ribbon on it and Louis unties it with a flourish. There’s a ring case inside of the paper box and his eyes just about bug out of his head. He stammers for a second but Harry is quick to jump in.

 

“No! No, no. Nothing-- Not like-- It’s not that. Just open it.” Louis gives him a wary look as he pries it open.

 

His breath hitches as he sees it. It’s gorgeous, not like any of the ones Harry always wears: gaudy and eye-catching. It was understated, definitely delicate and simple. He takes it out of the box and tries to read the inscription on the inside.

 

“What’s it say? I don’t have my glasses.” He asks, looking up. Harry’s face is very close, he still wasn’t very good about personal space.

 

“Amor Vincit Omnia. It’s Latin, it means--”

 

“Love conquers all, yeah.” Louis says, a little breathlessly, looking down at it in his hands.

 

They’re quiet for a moment and Louis tries very very hard not to jump to any conclusions but-- “Babe, I love you, but you’d have to understand how I’m a little confused right now.” He turns where he’s sat on one of their barstools, pulling Harry to stand between his legs.

 

“It’s not-- You don’t have to wear it, actually, I got a chain for it if you like. But, that’s not the point. I mean--” He chews on his lip in frustration, leaving his hands circled around Louis’s back. “I know we have a house together and a cat together and everything, but I just wanted-- I just wanted you to know that this… This is it for me.”

 

“So it’s like a promise ring?” Louis asks, running his finger over the inscription.

 

He feels Harry nod, but he doesn’t look up.

 

“A promise to… Marry you one day.” Louis confirms in a bit of disbelief. “But it’s not… An engagement ring. I’m… Uh…” He tries to pull the crazy back in as he meets Harry’s eyes. He’s cringing, fiddling with the back of Louis’s t-shirt. When Louis looks back down at the gold band, he laughs. He laughs and laughs, until there are tears sprouting at the corners of his eyes. “God, you’re the worst. I hate you so much. You can’t-- You can’t just spring this on me like that! Jesus Christ, H, give a man some warning.” He slips the ring onto his finger, holding it out to admire it.

 

“Wait, so… You’re taking it? You’re saying yes, or like accepting it or whatever?” Harry asks, eyeing him warily.

 

Louis laughs again, bringing Harry in by the chin for a chaste kiss. “Obviously. Though I don’t really see how this is any different than an engagement ring.”

 

Harry shrugs, smiling now. “I didn’t think you’d say yes to _that_ , and besides, I don’t think either of us are ready for a wedding anytime soon. We don’t need one, yet.”

 

“Damn, I guess this means you’re going to expect me to be the one to propose for real. No fair, you got the easy one.” He pouts, still admiring the ring. He’s never been much of a jewelry guy, but he likes the look of this one.

 

“What part of this was easy?”

 

“Oh, c’mon! You had to know I’d accept.” Louis rolls his eyes, putting his hands on Harry’s hips.

 

“I did not! Just you wait, I’m sure you’ll be just as nervous when you ask me.” He says smugly.

 

“I’m never nervous.” Louis huffs.

 

“Sure, babe. My big strong man.” Harry smiles, kissing him on the cheek.

 

“You’re incredibly cheesy, don’t you know? A promise ring, really, Harold?” He smiles though, inexplicably giddy about the whole thing.

 

“Perfectly complementary to all your whining.” He says with a cheeky wink. It takes a moment for Louis to get it which just fuels the fire when he smacks him upside the head, turning away back to his coffee in a huff, his lips tugging upwards.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I don't have a post for this fic to reblog, since it's essentially just an epilogue. But feel free to reblog its parent work _As Good As It Gets_ [HERE](http://radiantbeams.tumblr.com/post/169453700454/thiccmom-as-good-as-it).
> 
> Please leave comments/kudos they are much appreciated! :)


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